


A Devil of A DI

by WingedWhale



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fantasy AU, M/M, Mystrade Valentines Calendar 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 19:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13665984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedWhale/pseuds/WingedWhale
Summary: Mycroft discovers what Greg Lestrade truly is.





	A Devil of A DI

_Sometimes, sir, I really hate pretending to be human. While I can approximate human emotion as well as any demon worth his salt, I long to experience what it's truly like to feel and care. It pains me to say this, but I could really use a friend who knows the truth. I know, I know, not part of the assignment. Still, I wonder if I'll ever meet a human who will see past this facade._  
 _This ennui is making me sound like a depressed teenager. I so need to get laid._  
  
_-Yours,_  
 _Lestrade_

  
When the black limo pulled up outside Scotland Yard precisely the same second that Lestrade exited the building, he didn't immediately connect the events together. After all, why would he? He had just turned down the sidewalk when he heard one of the limo's doors open and a female voice call after him.

"Mr. Greg Lestrade?"

Lestrade turned around and his gaze alighted upon a very attractive petite brunette. She gestured into the limousine and proceeded to get back into the vehicle. What the hell? He was curious and wondered if this had something to do with Sherlock Holmes.

The limousine driver took off without a word from the woman.

"Who are you?" he asked her. He used just enough of his dark magic to gently compel her to tell the truth.

"I'm Mycroft Holmes' personal assistant."

"Who the devil is Mycroft Holmes?" he asked.

 

"Why he's Sherlock's brother, of course," she said before flicking her gaze back down to her Blackberry.

Interesting, Lestrade thought to himself. When they arrived at the abandoned industrial warehouse on the outskirts of the city, Lestrade was expecting to find James Bond. What's with the cloak and dagger show? He followed the assistant, trying his best not let his gaze fixate on her lovely rear end. He saw a ginger haired man standing in the middle of the concrete building, a brolly hooked over his left arm even though it clearly wasn't raining.. What's he got in there, a sword? The man had sharp blue eyes and while he wasn't a drop dead gorgeous model, he was quite beautiful in his own right.  
Lestrade graced the man with a dazzling smile.

"Hey," he said pleasantly. "Greg Lestrade." He extended his hand forward and watched as the other man stared at it imperiously.

"Hey?" the other man echoed. "I'll have you know men have trembled at the sight of me in far more comfortable locales."

 

"Okay," Lestrade said easily. 

"I expected Scotland Yard's finest detective inspector to be a man of more words, especially given the way he talks about you."

"What would you like me to say?" Lestrade asked, squaring his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back so he wasn't tempted to throttle the man.

"Well for starters I'd like to point out that as far as I can tell, you have no personal history on record prior to the year 2000. No Uni records, no driving license photos, not one shred of documentation. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You wouldn't believe the truth if I told you," Lestrade said.

"Try me,"

"I don't think so," Lestrade told him. "It's not as if I've committed any crimes."

"I have the power to detain any person I choose," Mycroft said archly.

Lestrade rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You want to try detaining me? Good luck with that." 

Mycroft glared at him, trying to intimate him into taking a good step backwards by sheer force of will alone. Lestrade simply smiled back. Mycroft stepped forward, encroaching into his personal space. The DI didn't budge.

"Mr. Lestrade, I will do everything in my power to keep my brother safe. Your lack of cooperation will not bode well for your future in law enforcement. Do I make myself clear?"

"Threaten me all you like, but I want to protect Sherlock, too. I like him despite his obvious 'character faults'."

"Then tell me where the hell you were living prior to the year 2000."

Lestrade's lips twitched in a smile as Mycroft said the word hell. Mycroft glowered at him and stabbed the end of his umbrella onto the concrete floor in anger.

"I need to know my brother is protected! And I can't be wondering if your some sort of sleeper agent for an international terrorist cell or worse, a drug dealer."

"Don't worry," Lestrade said soothingly, applying his magic to calm the man. "You hungry? Why don't we have a conversation over a civilized meal instead of doing whatever the fuck we're doing here?"

Mycroft sniffed imperiously. "Will you tell me about your mysterious past?"

"Not a chance in Hell,"

The ginger haired Holmes cocked his head to the side and allowed his mouth to turn up into a partial smile.

"Why, Mr. Gregory Lestrade, I daresay you are the first person in history not to be afraid of me. Tell me, what is your secret?"

Lestrade beamed back at him, "Ah, but that would require more clearance than even the British Government possesses. You like Indian food? I know a little place that's simply divine."

Mycroft shook his head as if to clear it, focussing his gaze as if Lestrade were some sort of supernatural specter, (and in a way he was).

Greg turned back and began walking towards the limousine, leaving Sherlock's older brother no choice but to follow. He heard jogging footfalls on pavement and suddenly Mycroft was in front of him.

"Are you a danger to my brother?" he demanded.

"Him?" Lestrade asked. "Hardly. But as far as you're concerned, Mycroft, if you don't get in that limousine I might just eat you for my dinner instead."

Lestrade gave a pointed once over of Mycroft's body, his eyes raking over the man's crotch before returning to his blue eyes. He watched as Mycroft swallowed hard, Lestrade's implication washing over him. Lestrade started walking to the limousine again and slid into the back seat. Thirty seconds later Mycroft did he same, sitting opposite him. Lestrade smiled. His dark magic allowed him to sense Mycroft's arousal, even with his face obscured in shadow. He gave Mycroft the address of he restaurant and Mycroft relayed it to his driver. His personal assistant glanced between the two men.

"Don't take this the wrong way, boss, but this isn't the beginning of some weird porno. is it? For the love of God, don't forget to let me out if it is." "No, Anthea dear, nothing so crude or tawdry will be happening, I assure you."  
Lestrade leveled a look at Mycroft. "The lady's comment would leave one to believe that you made a habit of having sex in limousines. Is that true?"

"I'd hardly call it a habit," Mycroft muttered.

Lestrade looked from Mycroft to Anthea and back again. "And here I thought I was in for a boring evening alone."

 

The erotically charged chemistry between the two of them simmered in the background as they stopped to drop Anthea off at home. The restaurant happened to be close to her building.

"What do you think of Sherlock?"

Lestrade sighed deeply. "He's a bit of a git and a bit of a boffin. He's tempestuous, mercurial and shall I say, a little socially constipated."

This earned him a genuine laugh from Mycroft. He found it to be a wonderful sound and wondered what he could do or say to make the man laugh again.

"He's very fond of you," Mycroft told him. "Speaks highly of you, which for him, is high praise indeed. That praise is the reason there isn't an official investigation into your past. Sherlock made me promise to let it go. Does he know your history?"

"No," Lestrade told him. "Nobody does,"

Mycroft looked into Lestrade's dark eyes, his gaze searching. Lestrade let him look, taking a bite of saag-paneer. Mycroft took a sip of wine and Lestrade could almost read his thoughts. The man wanted so badly to know the secret to the mystery.

"You can trust me," he said softly. "I have the highest security clearance in the United Kingdom.Whatever it is, it can't be more impossible to believe than the mess of aliens running around in Cardiff."

Lestrade smiled. "Okay," he said. "I'm from Hell. I'm a demon. And I used to work as Lucifer's personal assistant. He's a wonderful chap, by the way. Currently living as a human in L.A. Ever since the turn of the millenium however, I've been working in London masquerading as a DI."

Mycroft didn't say anything. 

"You're the first human I've told."

Mycroft let out a short laugh. "I suppose a face as pretty as yours couldn't possibly come from Earth."

"I reckon not," Lestrade agreed. "You don't seem too surprised though, . . . Why is that?"

"That would be because, my dear Lestrade, I sold my soul long ago to protect my brother's life. I've always hoped the guardian in charge of his welfare was wise enough to recognize his humanity."

Lestrade was so used to being around humans and their souls that it only now just dawned on him that the human sitting before him didn't have one. He took a drink of beer, staring at Mycroft with intense interest.

"You sold it to a demon like me? Or . . .did you make a deal with him?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"I've honestly never met a human without a soul before. Do you ever miss it?"

Mycroft paused, considering the question. "Not when I think of the fact that Sherlock will be kept safe by one of the most powerful beings in the entirety of the Universe."

"You love him truly," Lestrade said softly.

"I do. I can't lose him."

"Did you know the truth about me before we came here? Lucifer is the one who set me out to work with Sherlock, after all." 

"I figured it out as soon as I ran your background check."

"Then what the hell was all the banter for?"

"I wanted to see what you were like," Mycroft said simply.

"What, to see if I was a good enough demon to protect your brother? Trust me, I am."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt. But I wanted to see you and offer my gratitude."

"In the middle of some God forsaken industrial warehouse?"

"I wanted to judge your character whilst you play acted at being human."

"Why?"

Mycroft lips turned upwards in a small smile. "I had to determine whether or not I wanted to seduce you."

Lestrade smiled. "Well then I guess that leaves just one question. Are we having afters?"  
  
Lestrade very nearly jumped into Mycroft's lap after they'd entered the limousine. He kissed him hard, his hands yanking the man's tie loose so that he could expose his neck. Lestrade kissed Mycroft's throat, biting along the skin as he nearly ripped open his shirt.  
He then shifted positions, dropping to his knees in the dark of the limousine. He made short work of Mycroft's belt buckle and in the next moment had the man's half-hard cock in his hand. He worked Mycroft in silence for a few minutes, watching the man's intense blue eyes become hooded in pleasure.

Lestrade then took Mycroft into his mouth and it was only then that Mycroft made a sound. It was music to Lestrade's ears. He expertly deep-throated him, encouraging the man to thrust his hips forward as he took him in.  
Lestrade sucked and licked the burgeoning drops of pre-come collecting at the head of Mycroft's penis. Mycroft gasped and Lestrade bobbed his head up and down the length of him, working him just to the point of orgasm before backing off and applying more subdued effort.

"Please," Mycroft begged. 

Lestrade decided not to tease his lover and allowed him to truly face fuck him in earnest. Suddenly Mycroft came with a white knuckle grip on the limousine's door handle. Lestrade gulped the semen and when the shocks of orgasm had ended, he put the man back into his pants and trousers and refastened his belt. He then sat next to him.

"How soon until we reach your flat?"

"A few minutes," Mycroft told him.

"Will that be enough time for you to get ready to fuck me?"

Mycroft sent him a look. "If it's not, you can do your part to help, I'm sure."

Lestrade grinned. "Always," he said, grabbing Mycroft for a kiss.

As soon as they entered Mycroft's place and were securely alone, they began ripping each other's clothes off as if they were starving men at a feast. This time shirts did indeed rip. Mycroft slammed Lestrade into a wall, kissing him as if his life depended upon it.   
Lestrade put his hands around the back of Mycroft's neck as Mycroft's hands found his burgeoning erection. The DI hissed in pleasure and nipped with excitement at Mycroft's lips. 

"Take me hard and fast," Lestrade whispered in his ear. Mycroft chuckled and the sound went straight to his throbbing cock. "Let me just get some lubrication, my dear demon DI."  
Lestrade held out his hand, a tube of lubricant in his palm.

"Magic," he said. "One of the many perks of being a demon."

Mycroft took the proffered item and slowly spun Lestrade around so that he was facing the dresser, looking into it's large antique mirror.

"God, your so fucking gorgeous," Mycroft said softly. "It's almost as though I'm afraid you can't be real."

"Oh, I'm real alright," Lestrade told him. He wiggled his ass and Mycroft placed an open mouthed kiss against his shoulder. Then without warning he thrust sharply into Lestrade, causing the DI to smile into the mirror.

Mycroft held onto Lestrade's left hip with one hand and reached around to palm the other man's cock in his other. Lestrade sighed lustily and watched the mirror with rapt attention as Mycroft began to fuck him in earnest.  
It was gloriously intimate for Lestrade to watch the elder Holmes brother take him from behind. He felt oddly connected to the man, almost as if there was a feeling in there somewhere deep in his chest that was beyond mere physical desire.  
When Mycroft finished by stroking him to completion after he himself had come, the human kissed the demon soundly on the lips.

"I'm glad you're protecting my brother," he said softly. "Perhaps I'll finally be able to sleep at night, knowing you're there for him."

"I'm here for you, too."  
Mycroft allowed himself a hopeful smile then and it warmed the deepest crevices of Lestrade's chest.

"Would you like me to stay?" Lestrade asked gently.

"I would like that very much," Mycroft said before kissing him again.

 

Over the next several months the two of them began a steady relationship, Lestrade and Mycroft settling into a domestic routine that became so second nature to the pair that they moved in together two weeks before Valentine's Day.

"What do you want to do for Valentine's?" Lestrade asked his human lover.

Mycroft snorted contemptuously. "Stay in and hide from the love struck masses and overpriced menus. I've always pretended the holiday doesn't exist. I see no reason not to continue the tradition now." "Oh," Lestrade said. "I thought maybe we could celebrate with Sherlock and John."

Mycroft fixed his lover with a pointed stare. "Lestrade, Dear, John barely admits to Sherlock that he's not completely heterosexual. Why would he agree to admit as much with the two of us there?"

Lestrade sighed. "Nevermind. But just so you know, I'm getting you a gift."

Mycroft looked up from his paperwork. "You're the only gift I need,"

"Yeah, well. This is important."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Very well," he said testily. "It just better not be one of those giant fucking teddy bears."

Lestrade smiled. "It's not. I'll have to go out of town for a night next weekend to pick it up."

Mycroft gave him an odd look askance. "It's the 21st century, you know. You can have anything shipped anywhere in the world." Mycroft said. He thought about for a moment more and then said, " You're not giving me some kind of animal are you?"

"No. Not an animal. Feel free to keep guessing though."

"A very expensive painting?"

"Nope."

"An expensive sculpture?"

"No."

"An expensive sex toy?"

At this Lestrade couldn't help but grin. "That is a great thought, but alas that is not what I'm getting you for our first Valentine's Day."  


Lestrade returned from his trip with a small mahogany box the size of a deck of cards. He wrapped it carefully in heart festooned wrapping paper and put it someplace safe until the big day.  
The morning of Valentine's Day Lestrade popped out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning. He plucked the gift from the bedroom closet shelf and brought it back to bed. Mycroft's alarm hadn't gone off yet but he was half-awake, Lestrade got into bed beside him. He kissed the freckled shoulder that had rolled onto his side of the bed.

"Mycroft, wake up."

"Oh, God, it's sodding Valentine's Day." He put a pillow over his face and murmured underneath it, "Wake me up when it's over."

"I have something for you, Mycroft."

"It's not even five in the morning," Mycroft told him.

"I want to give it to you before you get ready for work."

Mycroft groaned and reached out a hand to shut off his alarm. He chucked the pillow aside and sat up, turning on the bedside light. Lestrade handed him the wrapped box and Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

"You really have no idea what this is, do you?"

"Jewelry?"

Lestrade laughed. "Just open it." The DI watched with wide intent doe-like eyes as his lover tore into the paper and held the box in his hands. He stared at Mycroft's face as the man lifted the lid and gasped.  
There inside the blue silk lining of the box was a small glowing white sphere of light. Mycroft stared at it, his eyes struck in awe of what he held. In awe of what he hadn't seen in twenty years. He momentarily tore his gaze away from the glowing sphere and looked at Lestrade.

"I wanted to give you the best first Valentines Day of our lives together, Mycroft," he said softly. "I love you. I love you so much I've brought your soul back for you. I couldn't think of a Valentine's Day gift more fitting."

"How?" Mycroft asked, astonished.

"Let's just say I once had a bank account with a lot of money in it and now I've got one with decidedly less."

"You bought my soul back from the Devil?"

"Yes. I couldn't bear the thought of you dying and going to Hell. Or you having nightmares of going to Hell. Now you can completely put that out of your mind for good."

"And Sherlock? What about his protection?"

"Sherlock still has Lucifer's protection."

"Lestrade, . . . I don't know what to say. I'm a bit in shock."

Lestrade smiled. "Touch it and you'll absorb it into yourself."

Mycroft gently touched the orb with two fingers and a warm glow shot up his hand and into his arm, traveling across his chest and going straight into his heart. It flared a bright golden white light for a brief second before disappearing.

When Mycroft raised his face to Lestrade, there were tears welling in his eyes. Lestrade smiled, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. Mycroft kissed him tenderly. When he pulled back he whispered, "I love you. I love you more than I can say."  
"Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day, indeed."

Mycroft kissed Lestrade gently and guided his demon DI back down onto their mattress. He then rolled and pulled Lestrade on top of him, deepening the kiss something more insistent. 

"You want to be late to work?" Lestrade asked, his voice roughened with desire.

"What do you think?" The smile that Mycroft then gave Lestrade could have put the devil himself to shame. Lestrade smiled wickedly in return, thrilling in the way his heart leapt at the sight of the man beneath him. He had found true love, someone he could finally share everything with, someone who understood him at the very core of his being. Perhaps Lucifer really was a miracle worker.


End file.
